


Grace Under Pressure

by BackslashEcho



Series: A Moment That Changes A Life When... [19]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cameos, Clubbing, Drink Spiking, F/F, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping, Mild Blood, Rooster Teeth Cameos - Freeform, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:05:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BackslashEcho/pseuds/BackslashEcho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weiss and Pyrrha go out for a night on the town, which promptly goes horribly wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grace Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> From a request [on Tumblr](http://rwbyships.tumblr.com/).
> 
> **Request** : Weiss Schnee/Pyrrha Nikos (Schneekos), “Pyrrha gets kidnapped; super angsty”. (Request by Anon).
> 
> _Note_ : Please note the tags: This story includes underage drinking, drink spiking, kidnapping, a little bit of blood, and a lot of Rooster Teeth references.

“For the love of Dust, would you just kiss the boy already?” Weiss groused as she and Pyrrha cleaned up in the locker room after Combat class. “He’s getting more persistent asking me out and it’s more annoying than Ruby on a sugar rush.”

Pyrrha gave a tiny sigh. “I’ve told you, I’m not interested in Jaune that way anymore,” she explained patiently, adding silently, _And I can’t tell you who I’d like to kiss… ___

“Well _I_ never was!” Weiss shot back, pulling on her school blazer, and Pyrrha rather had to concede the point. Weiss had never been ambiguous that she wasn’t interested in Jaune. Indeed, other than a brief fling with Neptune, she hadn’t shown any indication that she leaned toward guys at all. Then again, said ‘fling’ had mostly involved shopping, as Pyrrha recalled. And clubbing, despite the boy’s utter lack of rhythm. Perhaps Neptune was gay…?

“Weiss…” she began, but she hesitated. Was it too personal a question? Pyrrha wasn’t close to Neptune; it might not be appropriate to inquire. “I’ll talk to Jaune,” she promised instead, and Weiss heaved a grateful, if put-upon, sigh.

They finished dressing and began to make for the dining hall, and if Pyrrha wanted to imagine that Weiss was walking a little closer to her than was strictly necessary, that was nobody else’s business as long as she kept the blush from her cheeks.

* * *

No sooner had she and Pyrrha sat down to eat, than they were accosted by none other than Jaune.

“Heyyyy, Weiss!”

She made no effort to hide her exasperated sigh, but answered as politely as she could, “Hello, Jaune.”

To her frustration, he immediately took a seat, though she supposed she ought to be grateful he had sat down beside Pyrrha across the table, instead of right next to her. This assuredly had nothing to do with the fact that _she_ wished she was sitting that closely and comfortably with Pyrrha. Not at all.

“So uh, I was wondering,” Jaune said, setting down his tray and buffing his fingernails on his collar. “Would you like to head down to the city for a night on the town, courtesy of _moi_?” He slipped into a preposterous Old Valean accent for the final syllable.

Weiss rolled her eyes. In a way, she was grateful he had derailed her rather depressing train of thought—because of him, after all, she unfortunately _knew_ Pyrrha was interested in men—but dealing with Jaune was always a headache. 

“I have plans tonight, Jaune,” she said diplomatically, if firmly. Before he could open his mouth, she continued, addressing Pyrrha. “I had meant to invite you, Pyrrha, to join Coco and I this evening.”

Those familiar with Weiss’ temper would be nervous at this point—she never spoke quite so formally anymore unless it was to bury her emotions—but Jaune didn’t seem able to recognize the danger signs. He deflated, visibly pouting, no doubt hoping she would change her mind at seeing him downcast. _Hmph, as if._

“Erm, that sounds lovely, Weiss,” Pyrrha dithered, for some reason looking a little red in the face. She looked about to say more, but at that moment, Coco swept up behind Weiss.

“Did I hear we have another guest?” she cut in, brightly. Without waiting for any response, she plowed on. “ _Ex_ cellent; have her meet us at eight, darling,” she told Weiss, bending to kiss her cheek. “'Ta!” And like that, she dashed away like a cheetah on the plains; typical Coco.

Jaune stared after her, looking gobsmacked. He looked back around slowly at Weiss. “I…um. Are you two, uh…?”

Weiss paused. This…was an excellent opportunity! Perhaps she could finally encourage Jaune to back off. “Oh, didn’t you know?” she said, giving Jaune her trademark frozen smile. His jaw worked up and down for another moment, as though chewing his tongue, before he got to his feet with a hasty excuse and left.

* * *

Pyrrha felt empty. 

Weiss and Coco…were an item? Part of her was hoping Weiss would recant her words, explain that it was merely a gambit to get rid of Jaune, but Weiss went right back to making plans for that evening. Any excitement on her friend’s behalf that she was seeing someone—or that she was openly with another woman, given Atlas’ rather old-fashioned sensibilities—was drowned in the despair that the person couldn’t be _her_. 

She’d felt drawn to Weiss from the moment she saw the girl in the locker rooms, the day of the first task. She’s answered politely when Weiss asked about teams, of course, and she’d admittedly been interested in working with Jaune at the time, but having Weiss as a teammate would have worked out well. Here, Pyrrha had thought, was someone that perhaps she could open up to; someone who knew the weight of crushing expectations, and understood that even successfully meeting them brought no relief because it was merely expected. Someone, she believed, who knew what it meant to walk alone in a crowd. The appeal had only grown as time passed, especially as her initial attraction to Jaune had faded into sisterly affection.

Pyrrha wanted nothing more than to hide in her dorm room and bury her face in a pillow, or perhaps head to a training room to lose herself in physical activity, but she had already agreed to accompany the couple tonight, and Weiss seemed genuinely excited to have her along. Normally she would be thrilled at that, but now she could barely muster a smile as she agreed to meet at the airship dock a few minutes before eight.

They split up to head for different classes after lunch, and Pyrrha thought that every step felt leaden. She didn’t know if it was depression or a premonition, but she felt a great sense of foreboding about tonight.

* * *

Jaune headed blindly for the library, not really paying attention to where his feet were taking him, only knowing that he was seeking somewhere quiet. He would bury his nose in a comic, not to read it, but so that no one would bother him as he tried to work out exactly what had gone wrong. Weiss was a lesbian? Well, that explained her absolute refusal to go out with him. But then, why hadn’t she said something before, and stopped him making a fool out of himself?

Before he could really muster any indignation, however, a small voice in his head that he spent an anomalous amount of time ignoring, seemed to whisper, _But she said plenty of times that she wasn’t interested, and **that** didn’t stop you, did it?_ Jaune sighed as he pushed the Library doors open. Weiss might not have told anybody she was seeing Coco before now…and Jaune hadn’t really earned the respect to be told something so personal, had he? 

He passed Ren, who nodded an acknowledgement. Jaune merely grunted in reply, heading for the bin in the corner that held the school’s collection of comic books. One might wonder why an otherwise professional library kept such a stock, but Jaune was convinced that Professor Ozpin understood that Hunters needed time to unwind. That, or the Headmaster was secretly a huge _X-Ray and Vav_ fan; Jaune wasn’t ruling that out.

As he approached the container, however, someone rounded the corner of the last bookshelf and they crashed into each other. “Oof-!” Jaune stumbled backward, barely keeping his balance; the other fell over hard, and Jaune hurried to offer him a hand up.

“Ugh, thanks man.” The hand that grasped his was wrapped in a fingerless glove—Neptune. Jaune hadn’t seen the blue-haired boy for a while. “Oh, Jaune! Didn’t realize that was you. How’ve you been, man?”

Jaune wasn’t sure he was ready to talk to anyone, much less someone who he knew _had_ been out with Weiss. But then, Weiss was gay…so were her trips into town with Neptune actually dates?

“I uh…just struck out again,” Jaune said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Kinda…permanently.”

Neptune looked confused. “What do you mean, dude?”

“Weiss shot me down again, but uh…” he swallowed. “She’s already got a date tonight. With a girl.”

“Huh?” Neptune looked perplexed. “Oh. Ohhh… And you found out like that? That’s…that’s not cool.” Jaune sighed, and reached for the lid of the comics bin again, but Neptune grabbed his shoulder. “Dude, listen, you need to get your mind off her, right? Let’s hang out tonight.”

“What?” Now it was Jaune’s turn to be confused. “Me?” Jaune couldn’t exactly say he lacked for friends anymore, but the idea of someone—especially, if he was honest, someone as cool as Neptune—wanting to make plans to spend time with him was still a foreign one.

“No, the other Jaune that I’m talking to,” Neptune chuckled. Then his voice turned cajoling. “C’mon, Sun’s got a date with his kitty cat tonight and I’m bored as hell; let’s hit up a club. I’ll play wingman and we’ll have a good time. Just…promise not to wear a dress this time, all right?”

“I thought you couldn’t dance?” Jaune asked, choosing not to focus on the fact that the club scene wasn’t so much _his_ scene, even if he could easily see Neptune fitting in there. Besides, weren’t you supposed to make sure your wingman wasn’t better-looking than you?

“Dude, you don’t exactly dance ballroom-style at a club,” Neptune said, with an air of explaining the obvious. “Even my rhythm-deficient ear can figure out how to grind to a bass beat.”

“Diiiid someone mention a club?” said a voice behind them. An arm draped over each of their shoulders, and dragged them in close to a mass of blonde hair.

“Hi, Yang,” Jaune mumbled.

“Hey,” said Neptune. “Yeah, Jaune and I are headed into town tonight to cheer him up. You want to come along?”

Yang ruffled Jaune’s hair sympathetically, but shook her head. “I can’t tonight, but tell you what, you want to hit up a club? You remember the place I took you the night we tracked down Torchwick, right?” she asked Neptune. He nodded, though he looked hesitant. “Try that place; _easily_ the best club in Vale.”

“Won’t we get a little, uh…shot?” Neptune asked nervously.

Yang scoffed, “Nah, Junior’s a big ol’ softie. Or at least, he’s greedy enough to let bygones be bygones as long as you’re paying customers. I’d go with you, but Ruby and I are headed for Patch in like an hour.” She gave a Cheshire grin, turning to Jaune. “When you get in, have the twins tell him ‘Blondie’ says to make sure you have a good time, and he won’t have any more expensive insurance claims.”

Neptune swallowed nervously, but nodded again, and Yang released them, throwing her hands behind her head as she strolled back toward Ren. “Have fun, you two,” she called over her shoulder. “You seen Ruby, Ren?”

“Workshop with Nora,” he replied quietly, getting to his feet and packing away his books.

The pair left the library together, and Jaune looked at Neptune. “I have a bad feeling about tonight.”

Neptune sighed. “I do too, but…it’d be pretty uncool to completely ignore a recommendation that strong, y’know?”

Jaune swallowed.

* * *

Pyrrha couldn’t bring herself to make an excuse not to meet Weiss, so she slipped on the scarlet dress she had worn to the school dance. She’d had Nora braid her hair, and elected to wear an emerald necklace and earrings to match her circlet. With a final sigh, she slipped on a low pair of heels and headed for the docks. 

Pyrrha arrived to find Coco already waiting, clad in a stunning little black dress that barely reached her thigh, with a string of pearls at her throat. She wore her beret, black opera gloves, and heels more than twice as high as Pyrrha’s. At the sound of approaching footsteps, Coco turned and looked Pyrrha up and down over a much lighter pair of sunglasses than usual.

“My, you’re a pretty one,” she said by way of greeting. “Nikos, right? I’ve seen your endorsements.”

“Erm, thank you,” Pyrrha stammered. “I expect Weiss will be right along…”

Coco waved an airy hand. “She’s always a few minutes late. You’d think daddy dearest would have taught her the benefits of punctuality, but it’s harmless, overall.” 

She was still studying Pyrrha closely, and the redhead folded her arms self-consciously. _Is she flirting?_ She attempted some awkward small talk, but Coco promptly changed the subject back to their mutual friend.

“So, how is Weissy doing in her classes?”

“V-very well,” Pyrrha stuttered, caught off-guard for what felt like the dozenth time in their short conversation. “Her grades are always near the top, and she’s an excellent sparring partner.”

“And cute, too, am I right?” Coco added slyly, peering over her sunglasses again.

Pyrrha hoped heartily that she wasn’t blushing. _Why is Weiss’ girlfriend asking things like that?_ Fortunately— _or not, for my poor heart_ —Weiss chose that moment to appear. She looked fantastic, in a slim, ice-white dress that complemented her slender figure; the addition of her usual bolero kept it from looking too risqué, and a choker featuring a ruby in the shape of an apple combined to make Pyrrha’s mouth feel decidedly dry.

“About time,” Coco drawled. She gave Weiss a casual once-over, and sniffed. “I’ve told you about _Satine Couture_ , darling…”

Weiss scoffed as she drew level with them. “Just because you can’t pull it off doesn’t make it _basse_ ,” she shot back, demonstrating an equal penchant for Old Valean.

“Gules will love to hear that, I’m sure,” Coco teased, stepping onto the transport. 

Weiss merely gave an inelegant snort, turning to Pyrrha. “You look very nice,” she said politely. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you so at the dance, but that gown really is very flattering.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said, hoping her voice was steady. “I feel rather drab next to you, though,” she complimented Weiss back. She supposed she must be imagining the flush that seemed to creep up the heiress’ cheeks under the makeup. It was probably just the warm night.

Before Weiss could reply, Coco poked her head back out of the airship. “We’re burning daylight, ladies.”

“The sun’s already down,” Weiss snapped, but she and Pyrrha climbed hurriedly aboard, signalling the pilot that he could take them down.

* * *

“See, is this place cool or what?” Neptune grinned. Red and white lights strobed out the window, set high in the wall above the door, and they could feel the beat from woofer through their shoes.

He and Jaune were forced to take a quick step back as a body went sailing past them, thrown out by two young girls who were apparently bouncers for the club.

“Uh, sure…” Jaune said uncertainly, as the drunk man groaned through his impressive moustache. The bouncers stood in the doorway dusting their hands, probably making sure he didn’t try to come back in. They only turned their attention to the newcomers when the man staggered off down the street, grumbling in a deep voice that cracked occasionally.

“Mel, isn’t that the guy who came in with Yang last month?” asked one of the girls, eyeing Neptune as she straightened her red dress. The other, in white, gave him a once-over and nodded, folding her arms.

Faced with pretty girls, Neptune could tell Jaune was about to launch into his usual wannabe Fulvorka mode. He laid a hand on Jaune’s shoulder and shook his head. 

“Just don’t, dude; not on them.” Jaune looked embarrassed, but Neptune clapped him on the back. “Save it for when we’re inside.” He turned to the twins. “Yang said you’d take care of us tonight?”

Mel nodded. “Yeah, she texted us to say you were coming. If you think you can make less trouble than her, we shouldn’t have any problems.”

“‘Course.” Neptune gave his most winning smile, simply out of habit, but both girls just rolled their eyes. Man, he could not win for losing with these two. Probably just as well he had stopped Jaune—they would have torn him apart. 

The two of them followed the twins inside, and up to the bar, where a man in a neat suit and tie stood directing the bartenders. “VIPs, Junior,” Mel said, jerking her head toward the Huntsmen-in-training.

Junior glanced at them. “Never seen ‘em,” he grunted dismissively.

“They’re Blondie’s friends,” the other twin corrected. Junior scowled, but nodded. “She’s not here,” the girl added, and Junior’s face instantly looked relieved instead. He gave them a longer look.

“I remember you now…” he said, eyes flickering between them. Neptune gave the man his third-best smile. Jaune swallowed. Junior just shook his head. “Well, if you’re on Blondie’s tab, the bar’s open. If you want information, come back another night.” With that, he moved off down the bar, nodding at someone. 

Neptune turned to Jaune. “What d’you want to drink?”

“I’ve never—”

“Vodka Sunrise it is,” Neptune announced, loud enough for the closest bartender to hear. “And a Piña Colada for me.” The tall barkeep nodded, though the set of his eyes gave Neptune the impression he was a seasoned killer taking a short break from murder. _Well, he does work for Junior…_

“So um, what brings you out tonight?” asked the twin in red—Neptune still hadn’t caught her name.

Neptune threw an arm around Jaune’s shoulders. “My friend here was feeling a bit down, so we decided it was a great excuse to come out and have a good time.” Both girls looked at Jaune, and he smiled awkwardly. Neptune caught their drinks as they slid down the bar, and passed Jaune his. As the bartender passed by, Neptune idly noticed he appeared to be wearing a crown, glaring at a Faunus down the bar.

“Lady trouble?” asked Mel bluntly. Blushing, Jaune took a gulp of his drink.

“Who, Yang?” her sister guessed, looking baffled.

“Get real, Miltia,” Mel scoffed. 

Neptune snickered at that, sipping his own drink. “I think Jaune’s a bit too scared of Yang.” Jaune scowled, but didn’t contradict him.

“I hear that,” Miltia echoed, shrugging.

The twins were surprisingly good company. Their eyes were always roving the dance floor, watching for trouble, but despite that they made good conversation, and after a drink or two, even Jaune was managing to chime in occasionally without making a fool of himself trying to flirt. _Score one for the bro’s night out_ , Neptune thought, chuckling.

* * *

Ignoring the laughter from up the bar, Pyrrha drained her glass. At a glance, she thought she saw blue hair over the shoulder of a rather large man with a big, bushy beard, but she dismissed it as she signalled for yet another round.

Weiss and Coco were dancing. Weiss had popped over once or twice, but Pyrrha had more or less committed herself to drinking at least enough to get through the evening with minimal awkward memories, and Weiss had returned to the dance floor. She seemed a bit put out, but Pyrrha was too upset herself to care very much. She was always playing psychiatrist; it was about time she got to have a night to herself.

The bartender certainly wasn’t going to stop her—he’d recognized her the moment she sat down. Perhaps if she gave him an autograph she could get her drinks for free. Not that she didn’t have the money, but it was the thought that counted. But no, even now Pyrrha didn’t have it in her to use her fame like that. Though, maybe an autograph in exchange for keeping the drinks coming? That was worth considering… 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Pyrrha?” came that lovely, _damnable_ voice. 

She looked into Weiss’ blue, blue eyes. “Hello again,” Pyrrha said, though she was sure Weiss couldn’t detect the bitterness she knew lurked under her tone. “Yes, of course I’m all right. Why?”

“You’re…drinking kind of a lot…” Weiss said, biting her lip. “I guess it’s none of my business,” she added quickly, before Pyrrha could speak. “Dealing with JNPR must be stressful. Heaven knows I need a drink sometimes. Just, um. Come dance a little, maybe? I want you to have a good night.”

Weiss was…babbling. The thought came slower than usual, courtesy of the alcohol, so she didn’t really process it until the heiress was already halfway back toward the dance floor. How odd. There wasn’t much that could get under Weiss’ skin like that. 

Pyrrha pondered it long enough to finish her drink again, before the depression of the evening crept up on her once more. She leaned her chin on her hand and gave the bartender another wave. Idly, she noticed it was a different young man behind the bar; this barkeep was tall and lanky, with short wild hair and—when she heard him speak—had an accent almost like Velvet’s, though distinct. She promptly stopped caring when another Tequila Sunrise slid down the bar, and she raised it to her lips at once. It tasted a little off, compared to the others, but when Pyrrha glanced up at the foreign bartender and received a wink, she assumed that he had just made it stronger and took another sip, staring moodily into the glass. She ought to tip him better for that…

Maybe she should dump her tab on Weiss. It was petty, but Pyrrha wasn’t exactly feeling as magnanimous as she usually did, nursing her sixth or so drink. Or it only the fourth? She couldn’t remember… 

Pyrrha glanced around, eyes half-lidded, and saw the strobes flickering and the dancers gyrating as if in slow motion. Weiss’ off-center tail of hair rose as she moved her head in time with the bizarrely drawn-out beat, and seemed to take an age to fall. Weiss could have been here with her, _just_ her, if Pyrrha had just managed to confess her feelings. She couldn’t very well do it now. She wondered why the right words would never come… 

Pyrrha slumped on her stool. Her head felt so heavy, and the too-slow bass beat was oddly comforting as her eyes slid shut. 

Dimly, she heard an accented voice in her ear say, “S’about bloody time…”. She felt her arm being drawn over someone’s shoulder and heaved upright. Who was helping her? “Smegging bollocks you’re heavier than you look,” he grumbled, as he helped her away from the bar. Did she need to use the bathroom? Why was the air suddenly so warm?

Why did the new song sound like a car’s engine…?

* * *

“…guitar and everything, but this chick still shoots him down,” Neptune finished a story, nudging Jaune. Jaune sighed, red in the cheeks, and took a hearty pull on his drink. After his second Vodka Sunrise, Neptune had ordered him a Mistral Mule instead, and turned to regaling some pretty clubgoers with yet another story of Jaune’s failed attempts to woo Weiss.

“Yikes, she sounds ice cold,” Melanie put in. 

Miltia nodded. “It’s not meant to be.”

One of the other girls, who had been listening—some random girl with heavy makeup and a short dress—laid a hand on Jaune’s arm. She didn’t remove it as he raised his glass again, instead sliding it up to his bicep and giving it a squeeze.

Jaune looked at her fingers for a moment, then turned his eyes to Neptune, as if to ask, _Why?_

Neptune just shrugged and sipped his own drink. _Cheer up_ he mouthed.

Jaune sighed, but hitched a self-deprecating grin into his face. “Well, I guess I can see how it _might_ have been a little overboard,” he admitted.

“I would _love_ to be serenaded like that,” the girl holding his arm disagreed. “I bet you’re _really_ talented.”

“You bet,” Neptune put in, before Jaune could say anything else. “Jaune is a _team leader_ up at Beacon, y’know. Poster child for ‘more than meets the eye’, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s _so_ cool…” the girl said. She glanced at her friend, then leaned in toward Jaune and purred, “I need a minute to pay my tab and powder my nose, but then what do you say we get out of here?” She winked at him before he could reply, then slid to her feet, linked arms with her friend, and made her way toward the bathroom.

In that moment, over her departing shoulder, Jaune saw a flash of white hair though the crowd. 

_Weiss?_

* * *

“In here, boss,” said a voice with a strange accent. The door swung open. Pyrrha groaned, head pounding, but somehow summoned the strength to raise her head enough to point her unfocused eyes at something other than her own knees. She couldn’t have made many other sounds, nor moved very far even if her vision stopped swimming—she was bound and gagged, propped against the wall.

The ‘boss’ took one look at her and scowled, rounding on the foreign-sounding henchman. “You **idiot**!” 

Through the haze clouding her mind, Pyrrha stared at the apparent mastermind. He was quite short, the top of his brown knit-cap barely coming up to the other man’s shoulders, but the goon cringed in the face of his temper and impressive volume. Dimly, she noted that he sounded kind of like Blake’s friend Sun. 

He flung up his arms in frustration, and her distracted mind catalogued various details of his appearance. His knit cap had little bear ears on top, and red eyes stitched on the front like an Ursa’s. He carried a naked sword strapped to his back, which was a sparkling blue color. He had tattoos on his arms: three triangles surrounded by black flames, and a bleeding skull superimposed on a gear.

“You had **one job**!”

“But boss, you said to pinch the redhead who’s always with the Schnee girl—” the lackey began, but the small man overrode him instantly.

“ **Yeah**! It was a simple instruction and yet you **still got the wrong girl ******!” he roared, before launching into an absurdly-detailed string of obscenities. The man who had chained her up was cowering now, as the boss roared, “I don’t even know who this girl is! **How are we supposed to ransom some random chick to the Schnee heiress instead of her partner, you—** ” Another string of expletives followed.

“B-boss…” the goon interrupted bravely.

“ **WHAT!?** ”

“This is her Scroll,” he held it up to show Pyrrha’s wallpaper: a picture of her and Weiss after their first real spar, both exhausted and leaned against each other’s shoulders with no strength to move.

The boss closed his mouth, staring at the Scroll. “So she’s close with Schnee, too…” he muttered to himself, still breathing heavily, and the henchman relaxed slightly. Still scowling, he thrust the Scroll back at his underling. “Make the call. Try to make this the **one** thing you manage not to screw up today.”

Pyrrha, however, was spinning from embarrassment that someone had seen her Scroll’s background, and misery at her situation. _Ransom…_ she thought dully. _With Coco there, I doubt Weiss has even realized I’m gone…_

* * *

“Coco, I can’t find Pyrrha,” Weiss said worriedly.

“Maybe she went back?” Coco offered. “She didn’t seem to be having a very good time. I’m sorry, hun; I should have done more to talk you up before our ride here.”

“It’s not your fault,” Weiss waved her off, checking her Scroll. “But it’s not like Pyrrha to just up and disappear without saying anything. She’s always so polite, it’s one of those things that…” 

She trailed off, and Coco hip-checked her gently. “I know. You’ve got it bad, girl.”

Weiss blushed, and it was, as always, uncomfortably visible with her pale complexion. “Is it that obvious?”

“Not to her, apparently,” Coco sighed. “The way she was looking at you when you came out of the school though, I’d lay a good shopping trip on her being interested. You just need to figure out what’s got her so down.”

“I can’t imagine!” Weiss complained. “We were talking fine just earlier today!” Her Scroll buzzed again, and the notification indicated it was from Pyrrha. “Oh, she sent me a message…” Weiss’ voice died in her throat again, this time from sheer horror.

_Oh, no…_

* * *

“Hey, was that Weiss?” Jaune said suddenly.

Neptune scoffed. “Now you’re seeing things? Just drink up, man; you’re about to head out. Can you honestly imagine the Ice Queen at a club like…this…” He trailed off, as he saw a head of unmistakable white hair in the direction of Jaune’s pointing finger. “What the…?”

“She looks upset,” Jaune said, getting to his feet.

Neptune made a grab for him, but missed, and Jaune slipped away. “ _Don’t_ , dude,” Neptune groaned, getting to his feet and trying to catch Jaune before he could say hello to the girl who had all but driven him out here. Honestly, the boy had to be a masochist.

Before they were halfway across the room, though, they both saw Weiss suddenly freeze, staring at her Scroll. She grabbed her brunette companion roughly, forcing the screen under her nose, and the other girl paled as well. Immediately, both made for the door. Jaune and Neptune followed.

* * *

“ _We have your red-haired friend. She’s unharmed—for the nonce. I’m sure we’ll be able to come to a…_ nice _little arrangement. We’ll be in touch._ ” The heavily-accented voice cut off in the program’s beep, asking if she wished to replay the message.

“Well, that answers the question of where she is,” Coco said darkly, as the voicemail came to an end. Weiss was staring blankly at the Scroll…or rather, at the picture of a bound, gagged, and clearly drugged Pyrrha that had been delivered along with the voice message.

The first demand would come soon. Weiss swallowed; the thought feeling spiky and bitter in her throat. This was supposed to be a fun night out so that she could gauge Pyrrha’s potential feelings toward her. Now…

She would have to negotiate as she had been trained—would have to hope she could put aside the panic screaming in her ears and try to simply get her friend home alive.

“Weiss?” came an unexpected voice.

Weiss jumped, whirling around. Jaune stepped into the alley beside the club, trailed by Neptune.

“We saw you guys leave in a hurry— _is that Pyrrha_!?” He snatched the Scroll, inadvertently restarting the message. He went very still, staring at image just as Weiss had done.

“It’s going to be all right, Jaune,” Weiss heard herself saying. “I’ve been contacted for the ransom, and the Company has a procedure for things like this, even if it doesn’t involve me directly—”

“Tell me what to do,” he said seriously, handing the Scroll back.

“There won’t be any—what?” she blinked.

“How can we help?” he reiterated. Then, before she could protest, he growled, “My _partner_ is in trouble. I am not going to run back to Beacon with my tail between my legs, and we’re not going to have time to call for backup. I wouldn’t tell you that it wasn’t your business if Ruby was kidnapped. Tell. Me. How. I. Can. Help.” Neptune gave a firm nod beside him, his usual easygoing smile nowhere in evidence.

Weiss tried to think of some argument against it anyway, but the Scroll rang. It was Pyrrha’s number. Drawing a shuddering breath, she accepted the call. 

“Talk,” she answered, voice flat.

“Schnee,” came the response. It was a different voice; this one was suited to shouting and barking orders. “I imagine you know why I’m calling, unless my friend managed to foul up yet another order…”

“I want proof of life,” she overrode the end of his sentence, eyes narrowed.

The voice chuckled darkly. “Straight to the point, is it? Here.” The screen flickered to life, showing Pyrrha, still tied up and gagged. With the poor picture quality, it was difficult to tell if she was even breathing.

“He almost sounds like Sun,” Neptune whispered, unnerved.

“Move closer to her, and show a hand in frame with four fingers raised, then one,” Weiss ordered.

There was a scoff, then another evil chuckle. “Wanting to pretend you’ve got some control, eh? I’ll play along.” The camera moved as she ordered, and Pyrrha’s eyes tracked the Scroll dizzily. A brown-gloved hand moved into frame, grasping Pyrrha hard by the chin, fingers digging into her cheeks. She gasped in pain, and Weiss heard Jaune’s fists clench. The hand on screen released Pyrrha, folding the thumb in. “Here’s your four fingers,” he raised them. “And now one.” The index, ring, and pinky fingers lowered. “Now, you’re done making demands, and you’re gonna start making offers—and I don’t wanna hear a Lien under two hundred thousand.”

“Fifty thousand,” Weiss said coldly. “You’ve got a student Huntress, not _me_. She’s not even on my squad.”

“Wh-!” Jaune began to yell, but Coco slapped a hand over his mouth at once. He struggled, but she was stronger, overpowering him even in four-inch heels.

There was a flash of silver on the screen, and Pyrrha was suddenly sporting a short, vertical cut over her right eye. Her cry of pain was muffled by the rag in her mouth.

“Do I sound like I’m in a joking mood?” the kidnapper hissed. The knife returned more slowly, this time touching just below the eye, offset from the first cut. “I’ll give you some time to reconsider. In the meantime, I’m going to make her pretty face mirror yours. If I still don’t like what you have to say after that…” The call cut off.

“How could you-!” Jaune bellowed, Coco finally having let him go.

Weiss just sank to her knees, trembling and touching her own scar. Jaune stopped yelling, and Weiss allowed herself one frantic sob before dashing at her eyes and pulling the Ice Queen façade back around her like a shroud. “Everyone call your lockers, we need weapons,” she ordered. “Jaune, see if you can locate Pyrrha’s Scroll on your Team Map; it’s a long shot, but they might have neglected to turn off the tracking chip. Coco, get him up to higher ground to maximize the scanning range. Neptune, can you call your reprobate friend and see if we can get any backup?”

She pulled up her banking app on her Scroll, withdrawing a clear, blank Lien chip from her wallet. Inserting the chip, she transferred twenty thousand lien onto it with just a few taps, then placed it in a different pocket. She repeated the process until she reached two hundred thousand, slipping the chips into a spare bag. Father would call in the morning, she had no doubt, when he noticed so much missing from her trust fund, but it would be a small price to pay for Pyrrha’s life.

With five loud, resounding crashes, their lockers landed nearby, and Weiss opened hers immediately, retrieving Myrtenaster. Neptune shut his Scroll and quickly grabbed his own weapon. “No luck reaching Sun,” he told her. “I was afraid of that—he’s on a date, so he probably turned it off.”

Weiss scoffed, anxiety turning easily to aggravation. “Tch. Typical. It wouldn’t normally matter, because Blake is smart enough to always be reachable, but her Scroll is out for repairs.” With a final, practiced motion, she smoothed out her skirt and settled Myrtenaster into place at her side.

At the same time, Coco and Jaune slid down the fire escape. Jaune crossed to his own locker to retrieve his armor and Crocea Mors. Then he used the Team Leader override to force open Pyrrha’s locker, and picked up her weapons as well.

Coco merely pulled out her handbag before sending the locker back, not even bothering to change clothes, apparently uncaring of the dress’ shortness even with a fight looking likely. “We got a faint signal—not much more than a direction,” she reported, inclining her head toward the Industrial District. “But it’s a good sign, overall. Call them and we’ll get moving.”

Weiss nodded, swallowed hard, and pulled her scroll back out.

* * *

Pyrrha’s head bobbed. She actually felt rather better than she had earlier, but was playing sick so that her captors wouldn’t think to drug her again. Between the alcohol and whatever they had spiked her last drink with, she couldn’t channel a whit of Aura. Her eye stung, and she lolled her neck to the right so that the blood would drip away.

Her Scroll lit up on the table, and Weiss’ ringtone played. “ _Mirror… Tell me something… Tell me who’s the loneliest of all…_ ” 

The short, tattooed man arrived to answer it, no longer carrying his sword. “I’m listening.”

Weiss’ voice could freeze a volcano. “Show me proof of life and I’ll double my first offer. Two fingers, then five.”

The man pointed the scroll over at Pyrrha, raising two of his own fingers in shot, before opening his hand. When the camera’s view was clear again, he said carelessly, “We’re live, and you can see she’s dripping, so her heart’s still beating. Double…I think you’re still trying to hardball me, Schnee. Make it triple and I won’t have to make her bleed again.” His tone and actions thus far made it clear he wouldn’t hesitate.

There was a pause. The camera was still on her. Pyrrha twitched her pinky, then her forefinger, then slowly closed her fist, all without looking up or making any visible sign of recognition.

“Fine,” Weiss said coldly. “Triple. Where’s the drop?”

The man gave an amused snort. “I’ll call you back and let you know.” He hung up, tossed the scroll back down on the table, and strolled to the door. “Don’t you go anywhere now,” he smirked back at Pyrrha as he left.

Pyrrha strained against her bonds at once, but she still couldn’t use her Aura or Semblance, so she was well trapped. She could only hope that arranging the ransom drop would take long enough that she could try to escape. Pyrrha knew—as well as Weiss must know—that kidnappings rarely ended with the victims reunited. The chances of any of them walking away tonight, much less all of them together, were slim.

* * *

“Ugh, we can’t make a plan if he won’t give us any information,” Neptune fretted.

Weiss shook her head. “We can’t afford to wait on them to make a move to set up a drop,” she said decisively. “We’re going to trace her Scroll with Jaune’s before they can move her.”

“It’s like playing cards,” Coco explained, as they all moved along the rooftops toward the Industrial District. “You gotta know when to check, when to bluff, and when to flip the table.”

Jaune said nothing, his face set, and uncharacteristically grim. Perhaps Pyrrha had been right all along—the guy really did have hidden depths.

“So…shock and awe?” Neptune questioned skeptically. “You sure that’s smart?” Jaune glared at him, and he raised his hands defensively. “Look, I wanna help Pyrrha too, but if we do this wrong they could just kill her.”

“Yes and no,” Weiss answered the question, ignoring his justification. “We hit them hard and fast, and they’ll think it’s a diversion.”

“If they suspect a diversion, they’ll be looking for someone trying to sneak in,” Neptune pointed out.

Weiss gave a steely smile. “The diversion isn’t to cover up us sneaking in. It’s to cover up the fact that we already did. By the time you engage, someone will already be inside.”

“Someone?” Neptune persisted.

“Me,” Jaune growled.

“No, Jaune. Me.” Jaune rounded on her, but Weiss plowed on. “I am smaller than you, lighter, and altogether more graceful, _and_ capable of attacking, defending, and retreating without pause or hesitation. _I will bring Pyrrha back._ ”

Jaune eyed at her for a moment longer, then turned back to his Scroll with a clipped nod.

“I’m guessing I’m on diversion duty,” Coco said, running a loving finger along her handbag’s strap. “Just wish I had some extra ammo.”

Neptune still looked uncertain, but he nodded nervously. “Just…take care of yourself in there?” he said, as the four of them came to a halt at last, staring at the building across the street that Jaune’s map told them contained Pyrrha—or at least, her Scroll. There wasn’t much reason to separate them, though, since that was the medium they were using to contact Weiss. As they scoped out the building, he added, “What if they call while you’re sneaking in?”

“They won’t,” Weiss firmly. “It takes time to set up a drop, and despite how tough they’ve been, I don’t think their little operation has gone fully to plan, so they’re improvising. Until then, they won’t contact me—the better to leave me to sweat—and they won’t move Pyrrha to minimize the chances of escape or rescue.” She glanced at Jaune’s still-uncharacteristically foreboding expression, and added more softly. “By the time I get there, Pyrrha will probably be ready to escape on her own. She signalled us during the last call, didn’t you see?”

Everyone looked at her in surprise, even Coco. “When?”

“When that scum asked for triple the ransom,” Weiss explained. “The camera was still on her, and she signed without looking up. I think she’s tricking them into believing she’s more drugged than she really is.”

“What message did she pass on?” Jaune asked, his voice almost unrecognizable for the emotions strangling it.

“That she’s only seen two of the enemy, and that she could take them.” Weiss smirked. “I’m sure she meant if she were unbound and healthy, but if she could win, so can I.” Despite her confident words, she rubbed her hands together anxiously. “Still, I don’t want to waste any time. I’m going in.”

“Take this.” Neptune tossed her a small, emerald-green pouch—a Hunter-standard First Aid kit. “Sage upgraded ours,” he advised her. “There should be some smellingsalts and a stimulant in there, unless you think she’s allergic…”

“She’s not,” Jaune grunted. Then, to her slight surprise, he extended Pyrrha’s weapons to her. “I’m giving you twenty minutes before we start the ‘diversion’. If you’re not out with Pyrrha by half an hour, I’m coming to get you both.”

Weiss nodded solemnly, and with a flourish of Myrtenaster, formed a glyph to propel her to the roof of the warehouse.

* * *

There was a sudden, muffled thump.

Pyrrha looked around surreptitiously, still pretending to be drugged. The room was empty, her scroll sitting on the table where the lead kidnapper had left it to go consult with his subordinate about where to make the ransom drop. It was somewhat of a surprise that he apparently trusted the foreign man enough to want his opinion, given the way he had berated him earlier, but she supposed even criminals had friends.

The echoes of the thump faded, and were replaced by a soft shuffling. A ceiling tile shifted, and a familiar pair of blue eyes peered down at her.

_Weiss?_ Hope beat suddenly in Pyrrha’s chest. Having overheard the Scroll calls, she had allowed herself to think that Weiss might actually pay to ransom her, though the dismissal in her tone while dealing with the kidnappers had caused her to despair of ever repairing their friendship. _But…she’s here…_

With a quick glance at the door, Weiss dropped gracefully into the room, and immediately wedged a chair under the doorknob. Then she crossed back to Pyrrha, looking desperately concerned.

“Are you all right?” she whispered, quickly pulling the rag out of Pyrrha’s mouth.

Pyrrha gagged, her throat extremely dry. 

“Pyrrha, are you okay?” Weiss repeated urgently. Myrtenaster flashed, and the cords binding Pyrrha fell away. “We need to hurry and get out of here. We’ve only got a few minutes before our diversion starts.”

“D-diversion?” Pyrrha coughed, rubbing her legs to restart the blood flow.

“To cover our escape,” Weiss began, quickly passing Miló and Akoúo̱ over to their owner, but before she could finish explaining, the building trembled slightly from an explosion outside. Distantly, they heard the lead kidnapper swearing violently. Weiss cursed too. “Not enough time…” she moaned. 

Pyrrha was getting to her feet, but she was still unsteady. Though she was finally able to channel a trickle of Aura, it was returning too slowly to do much more than help to heal her slightly. She wouldn’t be able to use her Semblance without the risk of passing out.

Weiss drew what looked like a small syringe gun from a first-aid pouch, shooting it into Pyrrha’s bare thigh. Pyrrha hissed at the needle, but within minutes, felt her head clearing and her Aura regenerating faster.

“This won’t last long,” Weiss warned. “But hopefully long enough for us to sneak ou-” 

There was an impact against the door. The chair held, but the foreign henchman’s voice called, “It’s bloody locked!”

“She’s probably trying to escape, you idiot!” roared the distant voice of the leader. “Just blow it open!”

There was a soft clatter outside the door, and Weiss had to quickly raise a glyph to protect herself and Pyrrha from flying debris as the door was blasted inward. The henchman blinked at them for a moment, flummoxed, before he cried, “Boss!”

“ **What?** ” roared the leader, storming around the corner with his weapon strapped to his back once more. Then he caught sight of Weiss. “You’d better have come by to drop off my money,” he hissed, reaching for the hilt over his shoulder.

Weiss brandished Myrtenaster in answer.

“Go take care of their reinforcements,” the leader growled. “If they get away, go to Plan G!” His minion ran off at once, and he unlimbered the strange blue broadsword from his back. “I am so **ready**!” he announced, charging forward.

* * *

“Think we should give Weiss a bit longer?” Neptune asked nervously, his usual cool-guy routine cracking somewhat under the pressure of the night’s events.

Jaune was staring at the clock on his scroll. The minute ticked over, and he got to his feet. “No,” he answered coldly. “Time’s up. Do it, Coco.”

Coco nudged a brick with her toe, then kicked it toward the door of the building, which was set in a wall beside a black and gold tower of crates. It crashed against the metal, but there was no response from within. 

“Hmph. I’d say that indicates Weiss was right, and there’s probably only two of them around,” she murmured. “Strong door though… Well, we’ll see how it stands up to this.” She strode forward, pivoted on one of her heels, and whirled her handbag around to slam against the doorknob. When she lowered the bag again, the doorknob was simply gone, a splintered hole remaining to show that Coco had knocked it inward. “Typical,” she scoffed gently. She kicked the door open, then unfolded the handbag into a multi-cylinder machine gun. With a quick squeeze of the trigger, she peppered a steel drum just inside the entrance with bullets, and it exploded.

The three of them heard distant shouts, and a smaller explosion from inside the building as they strode into a large room, full of boxes and crates providing easy hiding places. They looked around cautiously. There was no indication of which way they should proceed, and the only noteworthy feature of the room was a glass case in the corner, containing a tuxedo and a single rose. Before they could choose an exit at random, however, they heard running footsteps drew nearer, and a tall, lanky man with short hair and a scruffy beard arrived, shouldering what looked like a short, wide cannon. 

“Have a nice day!” he cried, his accented voice lilting upward at the end. There was a _boof_ and a distinctive hiss, and a bundle of what looked like old-fashioned TNT shot toward them. They all had time to register that the band around it bore what looked like a smiley face, before having to dive for cover. “D’oh, sausages…” their attacker complained, firing again.

* * *

Weiss spun Myrtenaster’s cylinder to the yellow chamber, and sparks danced along the blade as she swung it at her opponent. He caught the blow on his own sword with no hesitation, and after a short exchange, caught her a mighty blow. Weiss rolled with the impact, but didn’t get back up. Pushing down the fear that seized her heart, and the exhaustion that still plagued her from the earlier booze and tranquilizer, Pyrrha moved between Weiss and her assailant at once. 

She twirled Miló in her hand, shifting it to spear form, and began thrusting at the kidnapper at once. He leapt backward, batting her strikes aside, and took another ferocious swing, like the one that had felled Weiss. Pyrrha caught it on Akoúo̱, and staggered. He was _strong_!

Shifting Miló back to sword-form, she bashed aside his push and began to exchange blows. Every sword strike jarred her arm and almost knocked her weapon from her grip. Calling on her still vastly-diminished Semblance, Pyrrha tried to turn his weapon aside…but nothing happened. Pyrrha was so startled that she almost didn’t dodge the next slash in time. She parried his subsequent attack, alternating aiming for his arms and his neck, but couldn’t manage more than a few glancing hits.

Conscious thought vanished for a time as their fight became fiercer, but eventually a horrid realization sank in. _He’s better than me._ That was truly rare, and in most situations, Pyrrha would relish the challenge…but this was the man who had kidnapped her, held her to ransom, scarred her face, and—by far the worst of all—injured Weiss.

Rather than block his next swing with Akoúo̱ again, Pyrrha twisted in a way that went against every bit of her training and combat experience, and caught his blade on the reverse of her own in a way that let her use his momentum against him. Rather than hit her, his sword bit deeply into the ground, and became stuck…but Miló also went flying, shifting automatically into spear-form and embedding in the wall beside Weiss’ feebly-stirring form. Ignoring the wrenching pain in her back, Pyrrha continued to spin on her heel and smashed Akoúo̱ into the side of his head.

Dazed, he crumpled to the ground, and didn’t move. Pyrrha hurried over to Weiss, returning Miló and Akoúo̱ to their customary places and dragging the heiress’ arm over her shoulder. Weiss, still unsteady, managed to sheathe Myrtenaster and grabbed Pyrrha’s Scroll off the table as they left.

Weiss tugged gently on Pyrrha’s arm to indicate which way to go, and—inappropriate time though it was for such a thought—Pyrrha couldn’t help but appreciate how nicely the smaller girl fit against her, or how nice her smooth, slightly cool skin felt against Pyrrha’s neck. Blushing a little, Pyrrha tightened her grip around Weiss’ waist, and followed the silent directions toward a series of explosions that slowed as they approached.

They entered a large room, full of scorched cardboard and smashed bits of crate. The only thing still relatively whole was a glass case in the corner, and even that was so blackened as to make the nameplate upon it completely unreadable. Coco stood with one foot planted on the unconscious foreign man’s back, with her handbag over her shoulder and a large, unfamiliar cannon in her hand.

Jaune hurried over to them at once, offering support, but Weiss merely passed him Pyrrha’s Scroll, tightening her own grip around the taller girl’s shoulder. “She’s fine, Jaune. As promised.”

“I kinda figured you’d be carrying _her_ ,” Neptune said to Weiss, with what was plainly a nervous laugh, approaching and laying a hand on Jaune’s shoulder. His relief at seeing them safe was clear in his tone. Jaune nodded silently, still hovering nearby in case one of them needed help.

“Let’s…just…get out of here…” Weiss hissed, pressing still closer to Pyrrha.

* * *

The two of them remained sitting close the entire way back to Beacon, from the taxi ride to the airship. By the time they settled in for the flight, Weiss had nodded off on Pyrrha’s shoulder. Coco smirked the whole time. Neptune merely blinked, before comprehension dawned, and he turned to distract Jaune.

Jaune, however, had already noticed. His eyes met Pyrrha’s for a long moment. Then, he nodded. No words were needed, and when the airship landed, he left quickly…though that could have had to do with his chronic airsickness. Neptune followed him, looking concerned, and Coco sauntered away in the direction of her year’s dorms, pausing only to tip Pyrrha a wink.

Pyrrha looked down at Weiss. Not being on her team, she had never seen Weiss asleep. It was odd, seeing the heiress looking so…vulnerable. She looked at the scar over Weiss’ eye, knowing that after tonight, she would have one to mirror it. It didn’t detract from Weiss’ beauty a bit, she thought. She smoothed back a few stray strands of white hair from Weiss’ brow. Weiss didn’t move, and Pyrrha decided that there wasn’t much harm in enjoying the intimacy of their closeness in light of the night’s tensions. Eyes sliding shut, she pressed a kiss to Weiss’ forehead, then pressed her own brow against the same spot.

When she raised her lids again, Pyrrha saw eyes of the bluest skies looking steadily at her. She jumped, starting to draw back, but Weiss’ hand slid instantly to the back of Pyrrha’s neck, keeping her close. Pyrrha opened her mouth to stammer an apology, and suddenly found Weiss’ lips pressed against her own. It didn’t take long for Pyrrha’s eyes to flutter shut again, and it was a long time before either of them left their seats.

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N** : I hope this was sufficiently angsty. (And that the happy ending wasn’t too jarring, but juxtaposition is important.) This one got long, but in fairness, I think the requested plot demanded some setup time. Let me know what you think? (Also, I don’t particularly ship Noah’s Arc but hell, if you can read that in this story, more power to you.)
> 
> This story kinda requires that the characters be drinking, so let’s handwave it and say that they’re able to at seventeen. Or they can because they’re Hunters. Or, most likely of all, Junior just doesn’t really care. In the interest of safety, none of them is driving any vehicle. (Never drink and drive, kids.) In other news, drowning your sorrows is generally not the best plan, alcohol being a depressant, but it’s not like it’s uncommon.
> 
> Headcanon that the four kingdoms originally spoke different languages (what we would recognize as French in Vale, German in Atlas, Greek in Mistral), but now use a common tongue based on the language of Vacuo (natively what we might call Middle Ænglisc, the Anglo-Saxon language heavily influenced by Norse). In the aftermath of the Great War, Vacuo’s contribution to the world was a common language that everyone would use to minimize miscommunication due to translations. At the same time, a lot of people chose to move around and a lot of culture was exchanged. (For instance, the island of Patch was mainly settled by yet a different minority group, speaking what we would consider Mandarin.) Ta da, impromptu non-canon history lesson. (No need to thank me, RT.)
> 
> Coco’s dress is from a piece of fanart I saw where she and Penny (of all people) are all dolled up. Weiss’ I more or less invented. ‘Fulvous’ is a shade of orange, ‘Kavorka’ is from _Seinfeld_ referring to Kramer’s tendency to pick up women who are out of his league; I stuck them together. This story is also full of RT cameos. Why? Who cares!


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